


An Apple Pie Life

by righteousbros



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Curtain Fic, Domestic Sam, Established Relationship, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Rimming, improvised lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/righteousbros/pseuds/righteousbros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Domestic!wincest AU one-shot.  Post Season 7 series finale.  Dick Roman bites the big one but Dean doesn't get sent to Purgatory.  Instead, Sam and Dean get their first real break from the Family Business in a long long time and decide to make the most of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Apple Pie Life

“Fuck!”

The pie tin clatters loudly against the stove top where Sam drops it as he shoves burnt fingers into his mouth.

“Honey! I’m home!”, Dean calls out. Sam winces as Dean slams the front door behind him.

Dean is home early. Of course he is. Cause that’s just how Sam’s luck goes.

The heavy thud of Dean’s work boots grows louder as he wanders through the living room. “Sam?”

“Here” Sam grumbles, setting his hands on his hips. He scowls down at the blackened pie as if it burned itself on purpose.

Strong arms snake around his waist and pull him in to fit against the solid warmth at his back. “Aww, Sammy. You baked”. Dean’s breath tickles at the fine hairs on Sam’s neck.

Sam furrows his brow in frustration and leans against the hard planes of his brother’s chest. “I wanted to do something to celebrate your new job. I don’t know what the hell happened! I followed the instructions exactly.”

“You didn’t need to do that, man. So I’m a greasemonkey again. Not the first time I’ve paid the bills fixing cars.” Dean shrugs like the whole thing is no big deal.

“Don’t do that” Sam turns in Dean’s arms to look him in the eye. “It’s different this time. You know it is. This is gonna be our home now. A real home. You and me, finally putting down some roots. I know you’re nervous about it after - well…after Lisa and Ben.”

Dean glances away for a moment, tensing at the memories. “They’ve got nothing to do with this, Sam. Yeah, I tried the normal life with them and I fucked it all up.” He silences Sam’s protest with a look. “It’s true. That’s on me.”

“You did the best you could” Sam insists. He wasn’t there. He was…he doesn’t let himself think about it. But he knows in his bones what kind of raw aching hole he must have left behind in Dean’s life. He felt it himself when the hellhounds came for Dean.

Dean’s mouth twists into a frown. “I didn’t have anything to give them because I just couldn’t let you go. The only reason that I tried it at all, the only reason that I didn’t swallow a bullet after you jumped into that pit was because I made you a promise. Then you came back and…I didn’t want to try anymore. I didn’t want to pretend anymore”.

Sam bites his lip, considering. Dean so rarely speaks seriously about his feelings that he doesn’t want to push and make him clam up again.

But if this is going to work between them, he has to know. “And now?” he asks. “What if you decide you don’t want to try ‘normal’ again after all? We don’t have to do this, you know. We can always go back on the road.”

“Yeah we can.” Dean nods. He brings a hand up to rest at the side of Sam’s neck, thumb idly brushing his pulse point. “But we’re not going to. We’re doing this. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted for you Sammy, since you were little kid. After everything these past few years, you deserve it. You’re finishing law school and I’m gonna make it happen if I do nothing but oil changes for the rest of my goddamn life.”

Sam’s fingers clench into the flannel covering Dean’s biceps. “No. You can’t make this just another sacrifice on my account. If it’s just for me, then I don’t want it either. I think we can be happy here, I really do. But you have to want it too. No pretending.”

Dean gently pulls him down into a kiss. “Never. I never have to pretend with you. Never have to try, because this is real.” He punctuates his words with another glide of soft lips. “I want this, Sam. I do. I just never thought I’d ever get it. Honestly, I don’t care where we live or what we’re doing. As long as it’s me and you together.”

For maybe the millionth time, Sam thanks God for giving him Dean. His heart feels so full that he can’t keep it all from shining through in a big dopey grin. He tosses both arms lazily on top of Dean’s shoulders and kissed him slow and deep, tongue sliding against the contours of his brother’s mouth and savoring every one.

Dean groans into the kiss, pulling Sam’s hips in to slot against his own. When they remember to breath, Dean mouths his way with hot open kisses along Sam’s jaw to that sweet spot just below his ear. “So we done sharing and caring now?” he rasps, voice deepened with lust. “Cause I got other things in mind for my first afternoon off”.

Sam tips his head to side, offering Dean better access. The scrape of teeth on his earlobe sends little sparks of arousal shooting across his skin. “Oh really? What about the pie?” he teases.

Dean pulls back to stare down at the charred mess. He screws up his face in a grimace. “I’m not sure if I should eat it or exorcise it.”

“Hey!” Sam cuffs his brother upside the head playfully. “I worked hard on that.”

Dean nuzzles at the corner of Sam’s mouth, intent on distracting him. “Maybe it’d be ok with some ice cream on top. Like a shitload of ice cream.”

Sam elects to ignore that comment. “I don’t get it! I got a 174 on my LSAT’s but I can’t make a simple freaking apple pie.” Sam drops his head to hide his eyes against the ridge of Dean’s clavicle.

“I don’t think that counts for much in the world of pie.” Dean smirks. “Don’t get your panties all in a twist over it, Samantha. Maybe baking just ain’t your thing.” He catches Sam’s chin and angles his face up for another quick kiss. “Hey anytime you wanna go all Paula Deen, I’ll be more than happy to try out the results.” He slips his free hand down to palm Sam’s hardening cock through his jeans.

Sam closes his eyes, letting the delicious pressure of Dean’s touch wash over him. Hums in appreciation as Dean’s index finger circles teasingly over the head of his erection. “I’m way hotter than Paula Deen”.

“Fucking A-right you are.” Dean huffs out a laugh and nips at Sam’s bottom lip. The fingers cradling his chin brush up Sam’s cheekbones to bury themselves into thick dark hair. “I think you’d look sexy as hell cooking me dinner in an apron. Preferably just an apron”.

Sam molds his hands over the firm rounds of Dean’s ass and squeezes, smiling triumphantly when he hears the hitch in his breath. “That sounds unsanitary and potentially dangerous. Basically, right in your wheelhouse then.”

“You know it baby”. Dean grins, tugging his shirts over his head to drop on the floor and toeing off his boots.

Sam rakes his eyes over his brother’s muscular torso. No matter how many times he’d seen it, mapped every scar and freckle with his hands and his mouth, he always feels that hot rush of desire. To say Dean Winchester is beautiful is like saying water is wet. Not that he’d ever tell him that. Not that Dean would ever accept an honest compliment.

“If you think I’m going to be the Lucy to your Ricky then you can just forget it right now. I’m not going to wait on you hand and foot just ‘cause we landed in suburbia. This is not the 1950’s and I’m no housewife”, Sam strips off his t-shirt and jeans to show off the evidence supporting his point.

“Thank god for that”. Dean hooks his fingers under the waistband of Sam’s underwear and yanks them down. He gives Sam a few firm strokes before pushing him back and turning him to lean over the kitchen island. “I was always had a thing for Laura Petrie from the Dick Van Dyke Show myself. But you know me, I’ve always liked leggy brunettes”.

Any thought Sam might have had towards an appropriately snarky reply flies right out of his head with a broken moan when he feels the first wet swipe of Dean’s tongue over his hole. He automatically spreads his legs wider, opening himself up eagerly for everything Dean wants to give.

“Been thinking about this all day, Sammy” Dean murmurs. His tongue painted circles around Sam’s rim, dipping in and out to tease and massage.   “Getting you naked and spread open for me”. He fucks into Sam, tongue delving as deep as he can get it while Sam squirms under his hands. “So pretty like this”.

“God that's good” Sam moans, desperate for more. “Come on, D. Hurry.” Dean however seems content to take his sweet time, working him open on his tongue and driving Sam completely fucking insane. He’s already so hard, and everything Dean is doing to him is just driving him further and further to the edge.

Just when Sam thinks he can’t take it anymore, Dean suddenly pulls away. Sam nearly whimpers at the interruption. He hears a cupboard door close and turns around to see Dean stripping off his jeans and boxers, a bottle of olive oil sitting ready on the countertop. Dean pours some of the oil into his palm, using it to slick up his cock. He wiggles his eyebrows at Sam suggestively as he does. His green eyes practically sparkle with a wicked kind of glee.

Sam is somewhat skeptical about the off-label use of olive oil for lube but there’s not really enough blood left in his brain for him to come up with a better immediate alternative.

“Get over here and fuck me already” Sam demands. He hops up onto the edge of the kitchen island, leaning back on his elbows with his legs dangling wide open. He knows exactly the kind of show he’s offering Dean by the feral look in his brother’s eyes.

“So bossy, Samantha”. Dean pours some more olive oil out on his fingers and moves to position himself between Sam’s knees. He reaches down and slips three messy fingers into Sam’s hole, stretching and slicking him up even more. Making sure that he’s good and ready.

When Dean rubs against that sensitive spot deep inside, Sam bucks his hips and cries out. “Yes! Oh god, right fucking there. Now. Dean, please. Need you now”.

“OK, Sammy I got you”. He lifts both of Sam’s legs up so that his ankles rest against Dean’s shoulders. He watches intently as he nudges the thick head of his cock against Sam’s entrance, captivated by the give of smooth flesh against flesh as he slowly eases his way inside. Dean grips Sam’s hips, drawing him flush against his body as he pushes forward in a long slow drag to sheath himself fully inside that impossible heat.

Sam is practically shivering with need but he forces himself to stay still, knowing that Dean won’t move until his body is relaxed enough to take him. Sam is so desperate to come but he can’t get any of the friction he needs in this position. He wants to touch his cock, but Dean smacks his hands away with a growl. “Not yet, baby. Not until I say.”

Dean presses a kiss to the inside of his ankle and then starts to move. Circling his hips and pressing in as deep as he can get, tantalizing the soft inner walls of Sam’s body. “Fuck. Sammy. My Sammy. So goddamn tight. Like you were made for me.” He keeps one hand on Sam’s hip,  anchoring him in place while he runs the other up and down the length of Sam’s leg. Petting and soothing Sam in an erotic echo of the same loving touches he’s known his whole life. It’s how they’ve always communicated best.

Sam feels like his whole body is a live wire. He writhes and grips at the edge of the counter as Dean thrusts at a steady rhythm, feels sparks of pleasure lick up his spine on every other stroke as Dean slams against his prostate again and again. He’s relentless. Driving Sam faster and harder without letting him touch his cock, now dark red and aching with unanswered need.

All at once it’s too much. The scent of Dean in his lungs, the taste of him in Sam’s mouth, and the feel of him everywhere. He latches frantically onto the wrist of the hand that’s pinning him to the countertop. “Dean!”. He can feel the jagged edges of his orgasm as it threatens to rip itself out of him whether he gets the permission he’s begging for or not.

Dean knows his body as well as Sam does, if not better for all the devotion he’s paid it in so many different ways. He knows exactly where that bright edge of too much pleasure meets pain. Sam never once questioned the trust he has in Dean to help him navigate it safely and he doesn’t now. Dean knows what he needs and he always always gives it to him.

“Ok, baby.” A hand mercifully closes around Sam’s cock, stroking and squeezing right where he needs it. “C’mon and come for me”.

Sam’s vision whites out. All the air is punched out of his lungs as he arcs up and paints his stomach and his chest with come.

From the sounds Dean makes as he watches Sam fall apart in front of him, he won’t be far behind. In fact, Sam’s still twitching through the aftershocks of his orgasm when Dean’s hips stutter and he moans. Sam feels the spreading warmth of Dean’s come inside him, filling him in all the ways that his own release just hallowed him out. Yes, Dean always gives him exactly what he needs.

Dean lets Sam legs drop off of his chest and Sam can already feel the burn in his thigh muscles that will turn into a genuine ache later. But Sam doesn’t really mind. It’s his turn to give Dean what he needs.

Dean’s obviously spent, leaning heavily over him on his outstretched arms. He’s sweaty and panting hard, trembling slightly with the effort of staying upright. Sam grabs for him, knowing that even though what Dean wants to do is collapse on top of him, he won’t unless Sam makes him. Part misplaced caveman-mentality that makes him think being the one to initiate anything resembling post-coital cuddling makes him the girl. Part residual guilt and self-loathing over those things he won’t talk about which even now makes him second guess his right to be loved like this.

Sam hates that Dean thinks like that but he understands. He has things he won’t talk about too. He pulls Dean down and wraps his arms tight around him, nuzzling little kisses into the damp dark blonde hair at his temple.

Dean tenses when Sam has him ensnared. “Goddamn octopus”. It’s part of their ritual.

Sam just smiles.  Plies him with affectionate kisses and languid caresses over his back and shoulders. He holds him until he feels Dean sigh and go lax. Relaxed and content like he so clearly needs, but rarely allows himself to be.

Sam hopes that will start to change now that they’re trying out what Dean snidely refers to as a ‘normal boring apple pie life’. Maybe now that they’ve saved the world – hopefully for good this time– Sam will be able to convince Dean that the whole weight of that responsibility doesn’t actually need to be on his shoulders alone.

Well, he can try at least.


End file.
